Man Bites the Big Apple

Low budget indie horror movies streaming on Netflix Instant can sometimes prove less enjoyable than a dentist appointment or smelly ride on a crowded 1 train. Try as I might though to battle my undying sense of optimism, I continue to browse its selections with the sunny hopefulness of a big-haired orphan on the lap of FDR.

And just like Annie's trust fund, today, I am rewarded.

Quick Plot: Malcolm is a young British-American who has spent the last fifteen years bemoaning New York City's Lower East Side loss of its punk edge to the cleaner plague of gentrification. Of course, being in his late 20s/early 30s, Malcolm never actually experienced this glorified pre-Guiliani period, but if Rent has taught us anything, it's that self-proclaimed bohemian artists are equally obnoxious as the skinny jean-wearing hipsters that have replaced them.

Alas, the grass is always greener through misplaced nostalgia, so Malcolm enlists the help of two documentary filmmakers to chronicle his mission of bringing Manhattan back to its graffiti-covered twentieth century past. In order to do this, Malcolm embarks on nightly murder sprees where he takes out any New Yorker he deems as representative of the new wave (not to be confused with the French New Wave, which of course, Malcolm and his clique of cinema-loving pals adore).

Though dedicated to filmmaker Samuel Fuller, Random Acts of Violence is most indebted to the 1992 Belgian film Man Bites Dog. Like Remy Belvaux’s tale, Random Acts of Violence is filmed as a narcissistic documentary and lorded over by self-righteous sociopath who bears no guilt over brutally murdering innocent bystanders by the dozen. Where Benoit Poelvoorde had a little charm, however, Ashley Cahill's Malcolm is never presented as being anything but a pathetic brat.

Therein lies the true cleverness of Random Acts of Violence. Cahill writes, directs, and stars with the vital understanding that Malcolm is nowhere near being a hero, nor anywhere close to being right. Sure, it's funny to be annoyed at a homeless man spurning free pizza because its meat topping offends his vegetarian sensibilities, but for all of Malcolm's rhetoric, he's as much a part of the system as his friends who sport modern haircuts and Godard t-shirts. His revolution begins by spreading the threat that anyone can be harmed by the atmosphere of the city, yet as soon as someone he actually cares about gets hurt by a titular random act of violence, Malcolm refuses to hear the tenets of what he has been preaching. He's a hypocrite, plain and simple, but also a violent, petty, petulant man with a trigger happy finger.

I have a feeling some viewers will watch Random Acts of Violence and complain about the unlikability of the characters or insult it as a self-important indie flick. Some may even see Malcolm as a hero with grand and justified ambitions in his quest to give New York a wakeup call. Because the film doesn't tip its hand, it is very possible that many a filmgoer--and horror fan with torture porny expectations--may not quite realize that Cahill's Malcolm is an intentionally pathetic little man. Nowhere is this more obvious than in a brilliantly utilized Kirsten Dunst cameo.

Yes, I just used the term 'brilliantly utilized Kirsten Dunst cameo' with a somewhat straight face.

Browsing the web for other information on Random Acts of Violence (also found under the titles Charm and Malcolm), I'm mostly finding angry reviews that see the film as a lame hipster horror movie. That's disappointing, but inevitable. As Starship Troopers long ago proved, good satire will occasionally be viewed as a crumby version of what it's satirizing. Opinions are subjective so for all I know, Cahill did indeed intend this to be a valentine to grimy Basket Case-era NYC and a treatise on bringing the edge back downtown. I fear for those viewers who take that moral away from the film, as I see a far more entertaining tongue-in-cheek black comedy about just how silly those negative idealists are when they idolize a world they never experienced. The Truffaut worshiping artist who rails against the modern celebrity will often be the same man humbled into submission when an A-list actress shares his elevator space. The horror in Random Acts of Violence isn't in the potential rebirth of a dangerous metropolis, but in the laughable hubris of an entitled fool.

And just look at that scarf!

High Points

For a movie all about gratuitous violence, it's refreshing that Random Acts of Violence ironically does not revel in its, you know, random acts of violence. Yes, the actual murders are abhorrent and immoral, but the film doesn't linger on anything we don't need to see. It's the act itself that is horrible enough

Credit really must go to one-man-movie band Ashley Cahill who as far as I know, probably also made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the production team. His performance as Malcolm is so perfectly obnoxious without being showy, while the film's quick flow is certainly thanks to his work behind the camera

Low Points

As someone who appreciates but doesn't love Man Bites Dog, I love how Random Acts of Violence plays off its structure but I don't love that for whatever reason, Cahill never seems to acknowledge it as (obvious) inspiration

Lessons Learned 

When trying to enter a stranger's home and they ask who's knocking, always say "Me!" with authority. Works like a charm

A German sense of humor is no laughing matter

Never underestimate the languidness of a comfortable pleb (and I suppose, while you’re at it, never get involved in a land war in Asia?)

Rent/Bury/Buy

At just 86 minutes, Random Acts of Violence is smart in getting in and out without wasting too much time. The film is streaming on Netflix and is, in my opinion, genuinely worth a watch. Fans of Man Bites Dog might see it as a little derivative, but Cahill manages to take that same concept and make it very much his own and perhaps even more interestingly, very much New York. 

Well, it's a lot better than The Roommate...

Ah, freshman orientation, a stressful week filled with forced bonding exercises that I imagine are repeated upon entrance into hell. My first week at an upstate university (where from I transfered the following year) included a book club discussion of the assigned summer reading titled Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together In the Cafeteria? I kid you not, it was as friend-making an experience as you’re imagining right now.

Thusly do we get Red Hook, a New York-based horror film set during that first week of class registration, mess hall meeting, and closet-space imperialism.

Quick Plot: As a young girl, Jenny witnesses the brutal slaying of her older sister at the hands of a man disguised as a cop. Flash forward ten years or so as Jenny leaves the green of North Carolina to enroll in The University of New York City, which I assume is the lesser little sister (how appropriate) companion school to Felicity’s alma mater.

Turns out, everyone that attends UNC is pretty much a terrible terrible person. Jenny’s roommate is a squeaky-voiced musical theater major who spells doom the minute she tacks down her Mama Mia poster. The RA is an immature prankster, but you’d be an asshole too if your floor consisted of the incredibly awful newspaper-centered overachiever, the sullen lesbian, man-using slut, used man jock, and so on. Despite everyone being inexplicably mean to her, Jenny manages to uncover a potential boyfriend in Tim, the sweet guy New Yorker who, whaddya know, ALSO lost an older sibling as a child.

Isn’t it sweet?

You know what’s sweeter? Having your first date end with a shooting in a deli wherein the prospective robber gets his head blown off an arm’s reach away from you. That’s totally the stuff you can’t wait to tell your grandkids.

Moving on...

After a prolonged orientation to our characters’ orientation, the grabbag gang takes on a city-wide scavenger hunt in the hopes of scoring White Stripes tickets (or jobs at either The New Yorker or the school newspaper, it’s unclear). Before long, our lovably unlovable freshmen start splitting up and hitting some of New York’s hot spots, annoying tired cashiers at the now defunct Two Boots Pizza & Video and not-at-all busy employees of The New York Times. Thankfully, they’re also getting slaughtered.

Red Hook is a fairly by the numbers slasher made a tad more interesting by its aggressive insistence on being a 21st century New York movie. Look, it’s Columbus Circle! And wow, Angela is totally auditioning for Spring Awakening! Those kinds of nods only really matter if you, like many of the characters, have just moved to New York and therefore a) know the landmarks and b) are still green enough to be impressed by them. 

As for the rest of the film, it unfolds as you’d expect, with characters being gutted just when they think they’re safe and a few different “it’s THAT person!” end teases. Then it’s over and your life continues as it did before.

High Points

Um. It’s odd. I’ve certainly seen worse things than Red Hook, but I’m stumped to call upon any specific aspect that felt special about this film. Perhaps the final line, which has a nice and depressing vibe to it

Low Points

Any movie that teases me with a top-billed Terence Mann and then gives the first Javert a mere three brief scenes has earned my red hook

Lessons Learned

Having sex in the middle of Central Park on a sunny September day is apparently really easy

Real blood bleeds

With enough time and tears, a lesbian will totally change what kind of woman she’s attracted to

When filling out your college housing application, don't forget to make a special note that you're allergic to theater majors

Rent/Bury/Buy

Red Hook is incredibly mediocre, but hey, I still got through it. I can’t recommend a viewing, but as a quick stream on Netflix when you’re halfway occupied with reading a magazine or pairing off your orphaned socks following your most recent laundry, it’s not necessarily a painful experience. Some of the acting and editing is horrid, but the main performances at least push through and hey...it’s a movie. Not a good one per say, but you know, it starts and stuff happens and then it’s over. Sometimes that’s enough.

Q This

I’ve wanted to watch Q The Winged Serpent for a ridiculous amount of years. Then I forgot about it. Rinse, repeat. Thankfully, I had lunch at a Thai restaurant last week and what poster should they have hanging on their lobby wall? 

Oh yeah. Q-ueue it! 

Quick Plot: Random New Yorkers are being grabbed by a gigantic stop animation winged creature, their blood and limbs that don’t make the diet dropped down upon unsuspecting and horrified pedestrians. Only Michael Moriarty--here playing an ex-con, ex-addict wannabe jazz pianist--and cool detective David Carradine can save the city.

The best thing I can say for Q is that in the first ten minutes, the following events transpire:

-A man is skinned

-Blood rains down upon Manhattan

-Michael Moriarty scats

I’ll bet you a Metrocard swipe you guess how I feel about this film.

Slowly, but surely, I’m coming to realize how very much I adore the canon of Larry Cohen. From the haunting monologues of God Told Me To to the giddy insanity of The Stuff, he’s a filmmaker that never fails to be interesting. Like The Stuff, Q is never actually scary, instead tapping into the grimy spirit of ‘80s Manhattan, the utter oddness of Michael Moriarty, and the glorious then-modernization of old school giant urban monster mashing. It’s kind of a joy in all possible directions

High Points

Enough can’t be said about Michael Moriarity in a Larry Cohen film. The man seems batshit insane in real life, but when working with a Cohen script, his bizarre approach is simply fascinating.

Low Points

Between the adorably dated stop motion and quirky script, there’s nothing actually scary about Q, but isn’t that okay when we have lines like “Maybe his head just got loose and fell off?”

Lessons Learned

The Chrysler is a great place to hide things

Even the toughest gangster can lose some street cred when he sports a vibrant velour track suit

Mimes can make surprisingly effective--and silent--spies

The more PC way of saying ‘flayed’ is ‘skinning’

Rent/Bury/Buy

I will eventually add Q to my collection because much like just about every Cohen film I’ve ever seen, I get the feeling it will benefit from repeat viewings when the surprise factor can be replaced with relaxed enjoyment. The DVD includes a typically fun Cohen/Bill Lustig commentary, a great discussion that reveals some hilarious tips for directing Moriarty (hint: it involves songwriting). 

Reader Recommendation: Street Trash

"Street Trash is one of those rare films that has you laughing at all the wrong moments, as well as giving you utterly sickening pits in your stomach for some of the vile filth contained within the film. It is a downright ugly film, full of gore, sleezeball humor, a simple but well-executed plot, and some of the most memorable lines of dialogue one will ever find in a movie. Does anyone with a big name star in this film? NO! In fact, I can only remember one actor ever being in another decent film (by my standards, anyways!) and that is James Lorinz (Frankenhooker), whom did a phenomenal job in the film and really stole the show along with the main bum in the film. This film is funny as hell, filled with ultra-gory scenes of melting and dripping bodies oozing all over, reaches my quota for nudity and bush (me loves bush!), and was a film I watched incessantly growing up as a young boy disturbingly interested in horror films. Street Trash reminds me of a Troma film, but with far superior ORGANIC gore effects (no crappy CGI here, dear!), well developed characters and dialogue that is funny without all that potty humor thrown in (but there is some of that, too!), and something that one can watch over and over and over again. It is always a treat for me to watch this film with a virgin to it, for I get as much satisfaction out of their reactions to the film as I do to the film itself. It always has gotten a great reaction from folks. Throw this film to the top of the list of films needed to be seen ASAP! You definitely will have wished you had seen this film far earlier than now." 

-shu

Quick Plot: Or ten. Because for a low budget film not made with grand ambitions, Street Trash has an awful lot going on. To break down by character:

-Bill the Cop, a true Brooklynite trying to solve the murder of an unlucky motorist and the girlfriend of a maybe mobster

-The maybe mobster, who spends his time running a questionable restaurant, seeking his own justice, and antagonizing a punky doorman

-Wendy, a kind-hearted secretary with a weakness for underage homeless boys, who works for a junkyard owner and spends most of her on the clock hours trying to avoid being raped

-A pair of hobo brothers who have several zany adventures. They also have a friend with a talent for calling old women honky bitches and stealing groceries from the local C-Town

-Bronson, a crazed burly Vietnam vet who enjoys flashbacks and killing random people in entertaining (for us) ways

-Ed, the local liquor store owner with a killer bargain bin, who finds a box of incredibly old wine and decides to sell it for a buck a piece. Herein begins the cycle of melting

I won’t even bother trying to tie all these threads together. The film doesn’t, and that’s just fine.

Street Trash is rightly infamous for its gritty charms and wacky humor, and while 85% of movies made are probably better, this one is a darn good time that never quite backs down. There is, as you may have heard, an extended keep away scene with a hobo and his penis. There are, as the cover shows, plenty of rainbow hued body melts and stomach explosions executed with impressive expertise. Sure, we also get gang rape, ethnic slurs and necrophilia, but none of it feels particularly mean-spirited, misogynist or racist. You might even call it an equal opportunity offender.

High Points

Sure, the story is a mess and the acting more than patchy, but it’s hard to deny how well shot Street Trash is. Jim Muro has more cinematography and camera credits than anything else (this was the only film he directed) and clearly, he knows how to handle making movies

Tone isn’t always easy in low budget horror comedy, but Street Trash finds its voice immediately and holds up strong. A lot of movies like these--trashy and cheap gorefests--go for easy sight gags, dumb one-liners and ridiculous characterizations tossed in for surface entertainment. The world of Street Trash, however, is almost perfectly pitched. It’s sort of the wrong the side of Sesame Street, a self-contained community filled with real, albeit insane residents that are only slightly more than mildly surprised to find their favorite new alcohol causes bodies to ooze into brightly colored candle wax

The song that plays over the credits is an original, lounge style ditty performed by Tony Darrow (aka Nick the Dick). It is awesome

Low Points

Considering the deluxe DVD treatment this movie got (two discs!), would it have taken that much more work to add some subtitles? Especially when the script is actually funny but so much of the dialog is lost to the wind

Lessons Learned

The Witness Protection Program is a tad more complicated than you probably think

It’s nearly impossible to take a man seriously when he’s proudly sporting a Mickey Mouse t-shirt

In the 1980s, some hookers preferred to dress like high school majorettes

When your boss makes a morning habit of attempting to rape you, the logical step when you’ve had enough is to call the Better Business Bureau

When fleeing a fire, always grab your most prized possession, whether that be a stuffed animal, your Mets keychain or a plain house lamp

As much as I want to say this is the ‘duh’ lesson of the film, personal experience with a 90 cent bottle of Korean alcohol proves me guilty of not following this rule: never, really never, buy the hard stuff if it’s priced under a dollar

Rent/Bury/Buy

I borrowed my 2-disc special edition from my treasured public library, since Netflix currently lists Street Trash as a Save only. Is it buyable? Certainly, providing you have a soft spot for Basket Case-like tones and 1980s bargain horror. Street Trash is funny, tasteless, and a pretty ridiculous blast, even if the twenty three subplots don’t all find any resolution. Seek it out with a bottle of your favorite malt liquor on hand...just check the expiration date first.

There Will Be Defrosting

At this past spring’s Chiller Theater, events happened that may have forever changed the world I live in for the better. 

1- I met Grant Cramer, the once and forever Mike Tobacco of a little great film called Killer Klowns From Outer Space

2-I learned that there may indeed be a sequel to that little great film premiering in my lifetime

3-I purchased a movie I had previously never known existed, 1991’s VHS only The Refrigerator

Numbers 1 & 2 need no further explanation in terms of importance. Number 3, however, may seem exciting only to the few who happen to know that my line of work (the kind I get paid for) involves household appliances. 45 hours or so a week, I’m immersed inside crispers and condensers, celebrating the easy cleanability of adjustable glass shelves while struggling to find something equally exciting to say about the more common wired. 

And now, let us never talk about that part of my life again.

Quick Plot: Two awfully unattractive people excitedly navigate their trashy Brooklyn apartment to make sweet pigly love on the floor, fuzzy back hair dripping with sweat and (thankfully) clothed anatomy never really aligning in ways that would produce orgasms or babies. Perhaps because it’s just as disgusted as we are, the vintage refrigerator watching over our lovers begins to stir and in the name of evil or eugenics, gulps them down like a Death Bed to a bucket of chicken.

Prologue over, we move to “Somewhere in Ohio” where a pair of bright-eyed newlyweds are excitedly planning a move to the Big Apple. Wife Eileen (Julia McNeal) dreams of being a Broadway star while husband Stephen (Dave Simonds) is eager to climb the corporate ladder. Before they can take the city by a storm, the Batemans need a place to stay which proves to be way easier than it should when a sprawling one bedroom (complete with some familiar antique appliances) is bargained down by the landlord at $200 a month. 

I'd be this happy too!

How great is this quaint little walkup? There’s a complimentary plate of brie smiling inside the fridge! Who WOULDN’T sign this lease?

Because nothing that’s ever too good to be true is, bad things start to happen with fairly obvious sources. Eileen misses an audition when the refrigerator cheekily hides her keyes. Stephen loses some work points when he gets a flat (though any man that would drive to midtown from Brooklyn in rush hour every day deserves some form of punishment). Eileen’s only solace comes from the apartment’s kindly super Juan, a sweet-natured Bolivian flamenco dancer who should totally come with every security deposit.

Naturally, Stephen grows jealous and seems to conclude the best medicine for a failing marriage is sex in front of your refrigerator’s open door.

And that’s not even half the plot of The Refrigerator. I’ve yet to mention the Batemans' psychic neighbor or Eileen’s Debbie Harried banged suicidal mother. 

There’s Stephen’s creepy passive aggressive attempts to start a family and a montage of Eileen taking Manhattan.

Between all these threads, the apartment refrigerator kills (naturally, just by closing back and forth) the super’s assistant and, we learn in a somewhat predictable yet still ironic reveal, that the titular chilly villain is a gateway to hell.

Let me start with fact: The Refrigerator is about 971.333 (repeating decimal) times better than Death Bed: The Bed That Eats . That doesn’t say too much, since that home video of your little brother’s first tuba concert is about 892x better than Death Bed but still: considering The Refrigerator has never had a DVD release, I was surprised at how decent this film turned out to be. With a tone akin to Basket Case,  director Nicholas Jabos creates and a light-hearted and fairly self-aware spirit that meshes well with the rather ridiculous premise of...you know, a refrigerator collecting human souls for something something.

High Points

Though it doesn’t get a payoff, the subplot regarding Eileen’s reluctance to start a family with her eager husband feels true to a young couple struggling with different ideas about their future timeline

Just a small touch but one I loved: the opening credits featuring vintage ads for overly exciting refrigeration

It’s a shame that McNeal and Angel Caban didn’t work more with these kinds of genre films. Both have genuinely likable presences and seem to really click with the quirky tone of The Refrigerator, making us actually care about their characters’ fate

Um. This:

Low Points

No man should ever use “my little kissing fish” as a term of endearment

I shouldn’t really complain about unresolved subplots in a movie about a killer refrigerator, but it would have been nice to learn a little more about (yes, I’m really about to say this) the history and nature of said menacing appliance, plus the result of the Batemans coupling in its frosty glow

Lessons Learned

Making soup that would be ready twenty minutes after you’re scheduled to leave the apartment isn’t the best idea you’re pretty blond head has ever had, is it dear?

Getting something in writing is usually the best way to secure a deal (surprisingly sound advice from Hector the slumlord)

You should know your refrigerator is working for the devil (aka El Diablo) by the mere fact that it’s hanging out next to your stove (a dumb move that decreases the energy efficiency of your unit because higher ambient heat means your refrigerator is constantly working harder to maintain its cold after you open the door and wow I should stop talking about this already)

Rent negotiation was ridiculously easy and wonderful in the early ‘90s

Satanic refrigerators especially hate humans with poor fashion sense in headware (observe the late Paco’s silly pastel cap and Mom’s weird choice in geometric bangage)

Winning Ling

I am the wafflemaker!

SInce a character triumphantly announces this upon waking up, I’m willing to declare The Refrigerator a worthy followup to Dream Warriors for inheriting the title of ‘best nerd self-titling ever.’ This line may very well be more exciting than “In my dreams, I am the wizard master.” Time will tell. 

Rent/Bury/Buy

At this point in time, The Refrigerator (to my knowledge) is only viewable on VHS or fuzzy transfers. Is it worth the price tag? Probably not, but darn it did I have a good time with this film. Putting aside my own bias as an employee of a refrigeration company, The Refrigerator is rather charming. The characters are enjoyable, the plot appropriately ridiculous, and the filmmaking low budget for cuteness yet slick and competent in execution. $10 on a grainy transfer may be a tad steep depending on your taste in goofy, good-natured cheese, but those who enjoy these kinds of films (i.e., me) may be sated and hey: anything to spread the word around the genre community. After all, if Death Bed: The Bed That Eats has its own special edition DVD, surely a cheery lil gem like The Refrigerator at least deserves a warranty.